


roses aren't red

by clayisforgirls



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4382858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clayisforgirls/pseuds/clayisforgirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sorry I couldn't be there. -A" it reads, in perfect, cursive handwriting, not the scrawl he's used to, and he wonders how sorry Andy really is, and there's a pang of guilt, because he hadn't even thought to send Andy anything.</p><p> </p><p>Clo told me that in German-speaking countries, the yellow rose is a sign of infidelity. Originally posted in February 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	roses aren't red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clo/gifts).



"Mr Federer?"

A yawn escapes his mouth as he nods, hand covering it as he blindly reaches out for the pen. One signature later and the mailman's gone, and there's a bunch of flowers in his hand.

It's not until he's inside that he unwraps them, paper discarded on his kitchen floor, flowers in a bowl of water in the sink as he hunts for a vase, knows that Mirka must have left one somewhere. He eventually finds one in the bathroom cabinet, vaguely remembers her having a single red flower in there months ago, never bothered to find out what it was.

Roger knows exactly what these are, once he takes more than a glance at them. Yellow roses, fourteen perfect flowers sitting in his sink until he fills the vase with water. And they're a contrast to the rest of his monochromatic kitchen, the yellow standing out against the light grey walls and the dark grey tiling.

There's a note on the floor, one he hadn't noticed at first, and he picks it up, unfamiliar handwriting on it but he knows why, knows that Andy couldn't deliver them himself or come anywhere close to it. "Sorry I couldn't be there. -A" it reads, in perfect, cursive handwriting, not the scrawl he's used to, and he wonders how sorry Andy really is, and there's a pang of guilt, because he hadn't even thought to send Andy anything.

He doesn't think anything of the fact that the roses are yellow, something in his culture that's linked to infidelity, just thinks that it's a thoughtful gesture as he dials a familiar number, and though he knows that money isn't everything, it's something that can be incredibly helpful on Valentine's day.

\- - - - -

"Thank you for the flowers, liebe."

"You're welcome," he replies, phone pressed against his ear as he curls further into the duvet until he's almost buried in them, glad for the few hours of rest before he has to get up again.

"I'm sorry for waking you," and he feels almost guilty, but not quite, because he wasn't asleep, not even close to it, the thought of lips and skin and downright fantastic hands making him blush, twinge of guilt, but he forgets it almost instantly. "Andy?"

"Mmhmm?"

He knows he sounds half asleep, it works on anyone, even his mom was fooled by it, generally leaving him in peace for at least another hour on the weekends. If he ever had to write a resume, he's sure he could get a small acting role by that alone. Though, maybe not, because though he has fun making commercials, deep down he knows that acting isn't his strength, no matter what his family might have thought.

"I'll see you soon, liebe."

There's a click on the other end of the phone and he throws his to what's hopefully a pile of clothing at the foot of his bed, having been on the road too long now, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his bed at home and sleep for a thousand years. Except right now, this suite in the best hotel in San Jose - which isn't half as nice as he'd hoped, not after a flight that was far too long - but it's better than nothing.

Especially when he reaches out and fingers brush soft skin, and he pulls Mardy closer into a kiss.

"I know you're awake, Mar," he says softly against his lips. "Can't fool me."

"You know all my secrets," the lazy reply comes, Mardy's eyes still shut until Andy presses a kiss to his jaw. "What did he say?"

"Didn't even realise that I was trying to break up with him. He's an idiot. They do speak German in Switzerland, right?"

There's a laugh from Mardy and it makes him smile, a laugh he hasn't heard in far too long, one that's just been between the two of them since there were late night video parties in Andy's room.

"Yes. I don't know how you can manage not to know that but you knew that yellow roses were some sign of... something."

"Cheating on someone." This time there's more than a flicker of guilt, and for a second he can't look at Mardy, wondering if he shouldn't have taken the easy option, because he'd never shied away from anything before. Deep down he knows he should have said no, but two nights ago, no wasn't an option, not when he was half asleep and Mardy had all but crawled into bed with him.

A kiss pressed to his cheek in reassurance, blue eyes inches from his own and he'd missed Mardy, hadn't exactly made it private but he hadn't realised how much he'd needed Mardy until last night, how he'd depended on him, relied upon him like air.

"Andy?" Concern in Mardy's eyes now, and he realises that though he's been quiet for far too long, he doesn't need any words for what he's about to say next.

Fingers stroke Mardy's cheek gently before he kisses him, reminiscent of their first kiss, tender and soft and he's shaking, just like he did all those years ago, but it's Mardy's response that makes him smile.

A murmured "love you too, Andy," and it's then he realises that even if he hadn't been tired or jet-lagged, he still wouldn't have said no.

And he'll just have to keep sending the yellow roses to Roger until he figures it out.


End file.
